


The Flip of a Coin

by bobbiewickham



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire
Genre: Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-04
Updated: 2012-08-04
Packaged: 2017-11-11 10:43:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/477690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobbiewickham/pseuds/bobbiewickham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin. Rhaegar Targaryen thinks about genius and madness. Written in 2008.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Flip of a Coin

He was eight years old when he first heard his father called mad. 

He was supping with Father and Mother when it happened. Mother was looking pale and tired. Septa Lorissa had whispered to him last month that he was to have a new baby brother or sister, but then Mother took ill a mere fortnight ago. Maester Pargreth went into her chamber and barred the door. Rhaegar heard her screaming as Septa Lorissa pulled him away. After that nobody talked of a new baby any more. 

Mother looked up in surprise when Father started talking about how he feared the Hand was betraying him. "But Aerys," she began. And then Father's face changed. 

He began shouting--screeching--and then shaking. With trembling fingers he picked up a flagon of summerwine and flung it at Mother. She gasped and ducked. 

Ser Arthur Dayne came into the chamber after the flagon crashed against the stones of the floor. He looked around, at Mother, at Father, at Rhaegar. "Is aught amiss, your Grace?" Ser Arthur asked. 

Father was still shaking, a thin trickle of saliva flowing from the corner of his mouth. But he managed to speak. "No, Ser Arthur," he said. "Begone, man. Nothing's wrong." 

"I will take Rhaegar to bed," Mother said quickly. They left, Ser Arthur following them. When they turned the first corner, Mother turned to face Ser Arthur. "This...this business...you must have overheard. About the Hand. We should speak to him. Warn him. Perhaps he may have some...influence over my husband." 

Ser Arthur's face did not change. "If the King believes a man a traitor, your Grace, we ought not to warn the traitor of it." 

"It's mad!" Mother hissed at him, her face flushed red. "Madness! I...can you not do something about it, Ser Arthur?" 

"He is the king," Ser Arthur said, "and I am his sworn sword." 

Mother's face crumpled. Without a word she turned her back on Ser Arthur and pulled Rhaegar roughly, by the wrist, to his chamber. 

"Mother," Rhaegar asked in a small voice, "is Father right? About Lord Tywin?" 

Mother stared at the floor and did not speak. "Mother?" 

Finally she gave a bitter laugh in response. "He is the king," she said. "Naturally he's right." 

Rhaegar remembered that, years later, after Aegon's birth. 

_Prophecy will bite your prick off,_ he remembered Gorgon of Old Ghis saying. 

He knew this to be true. Of course it was true. A prophecy could have so many meanings, and each man, woman and child could choose the best-beloved meaning to cling to, whether true or not. 

But still...salt and smoke...his is the song of ice and fire...yes, yes, this was true. This was right. He would be the one, the Prince Who Was Promised, the dragon reborn. 

"But the dragon has three heads," he said aloud. 

"What?" Elia looked up, startled. She was tired, Rhaegar knew. He shouldn't be here, tiring her with talk of prophecies. 

"Nothing, my lady," he said in a soothing voice. 

Elia frowned. "What are you thinking of, Rhaegar?" 

He sighed. But she was his wife and the mother of his heir. Surely she could know some of what pressed on his mind. "The dragon," he said. "It must have three heads." Elia raised an eyebrow. Rhaegar leaned in, suddenly wishing to explain. "House Targaryen needs to regain its lost strength, you know that. Father..." 

Elia's face hardened. Rhaegar could not finish his sentence. He would not speak treason, not against his own sire. "The _kingdom_ needs this. Needs us, and our son. He will restore our honor, and shepherd the realm through the coming winter." 

"Him? A mere babe? How can you know this?" Elia shook her head. "Perhaps this prophecy of yours is referring to _you_ , Rhaegar, did you think of that?" 

"I did," he said. 

"Well, then," she said. "Perhaps _you_ should do something about..." _Your father,_ she did not say, and Rhaegar was grateful. "All this," she finished. 

"I cannot," he said. "Nothing I could do would serve, in any case. Aegon is the one. He will reawaken the flame. I know it. The prophecy cannot lie, not in this." He knew it. He had read every word, parsed every imaginable meaning, translated it again and again, sought the advice of the best maesters he could find. This was what it meant. 

He _knew_ it. 

Elia was looking at him. "But the dragon has three heads," he concluded. "Three. We have a Rhaenys, and an Aegon. We need..." 

He trailed off. Elia was shaking her head. "I do not know if I can give you another child, Rhaegar," she said, "not without losing the babe and perhaps my own life. At least, not soon." 

"I know," Rhaegar said gently. Elia was delicate and sickly, not the right sort of mother for a warrior-princess to claim Visenya's mantle. 

Elia was still looking at him, Aegon at her breast. She looked nothing like Queen Rhaella, dark where the queen was fair and slim where his mother was plump. But all of a sudden he thought of his mother, and remembered what she'd said so long ago. _Madness!_

 _When a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin, and the world waits breathless to see how it falls._

Aegon mewled pitifully. Elia stroked his head. 

How had the coin fallen for his son? For Rhaegar himself? 

He knew how it had fallen for his father. For once Rhaegar did not suppress the treasonous thought. 

_I will be different. My son will be different. But first..._

But first, he had to prepare. He had to make things ready, for himself and for Aegon. Nothing would thwart the prophecy. He, Rhaegar Targaryen, would not permit it. 

He saw Lyanna Stark weeping at one of his songs at tourney at Harrenhal. He was surprised to see her weep: she had seemed as cool as a snowy wood. _And as beautiful._

He saw her riding one morning. It was from a distance, but he recognized the Stark colors she wore. She rode like she controlled the horse's very thoughts. 

That was how he recognized her when she appeared in the guise of the Knight of the Laughing Tree. Nobody else could ride like that. _Visenya rode her dragon that way_ , came the unbidden thought. 

Rhaegar smiled, and then sighed. He knew what he had to do. _Duty_ , he told himself. _This is my duty._

He kept his mouth closed when the Knight vanished and his father foamed and fumed in anger and fear over the disappearance. 

And, when he won the tourney, he rode past Elia and crowned Lady Lyanna Stark with the blue winter roses that added even more beauty to her dark, lustrous hair. 

"You understand, Elia," he pleaded later. "Aegon needs another sister. The dragon--" 

"I don't care about your dragon," Elia said with quiet fierceness. "You shamed me, Rhaegar. You disgraced me, and you disgraced our marriage vows. You made me look the worst wife in all seven kingdoms!" 

Rhaegar flinched. He had not expected this anger from Elia. Some hurt, yes, but he thought she'd understand..."I did not think of that," he admitted. "But surely, that cannot matter to you at a moment like this!" He knelt beside her and took her hands in his. "The fate of the realm hangs on this, Elia." 

"Hangs on _what?_ " Elia demanded. "What are you going to do? Ask Lord Rickard if his only daughter will become your second wife, after your first has already borne you an heir?" Rhaegar sighed, and stared at the floor. "Why would he agree to that, Rhaegar? Lyanna's children would not rule or inherit, not so long as Aegon lived. And besides, she is betrothed to Lord Baratheon. Lord Stark will not break his word. You have heard what he's like." 

"Yes, yes," Rhaegar cried. "I know all this! But I must try anyway, Elia. I must. In your heart of hearts you know I'm right." 

_He's the king. Naturally he's right._

No. No, he was nothing like that. No. This was different. He had studied the question from every side and he knew it to be true. 

_Prophecy will bite your prick off._

He thought of the Knight of the Laughing Tree, defeating his enemies with such grace and so little hardship. 

He thought of Lyanna Stark, riding hard and riding fast, her hair and gown blowing in the wintry wind. 

_His is the song of ice and fire..._

He thought of his dragon-dreams. Aegon, Rhaenys, Visenya, flying out to conquest and glory on the back of a dragon.

Probably people called them mad, too, when they first set out to take a kingdom. Were the best and the wisest not oft called mad? 

He told himself that as he rode off with Lyanna. She wanted Lord Rickard and her brothers and even Lord Robert told of their plans. Rhaegar had not yet told her that he did not think this wise. He had not told Elia, nor his parents. He did not think he would. 

They were about to save the kingdom. _Nothing_ would stop that, nothing. No lord's petty whims and lusts and fears would stop what must happen. 

_When a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin._

Rhaegar pushed the thought aside. His coin had landed, years ago. Now he must do what he must.


End file.
